


Meadowlark

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [34]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deaf Dean, F/M, Gymnastics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Ignacia Madgearu ever saw Dean Coulter - she thought nothing of it. He was an American and she was a Romanian. Their paths were unlikely to cross directly. Even though all she knew of him was his gymnastics career - and that everyone seemed to have this issue with him being deaf. And even though she didn't even know the color of his eyes - she felt the need to defend him. Then, in 1999, their paths finally crossed - for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meadowlark

The first time she ever saw him was in Stuttgart at the World Championships. Ignacia Madgearu, the third oldest girl on the Romanian National Team had never heard the name Dean Coulter until that balmy April morning. Compulsories were held during the day in pairs and men and women competed at the same time. She and her teammate, Alexia Saguna were doing the standard routine on bars. She probably would never have noticed him at all if it wasn't for the man in plainclothes who was with what she guessed was one of the American coaches. 

“Why do the American men have two coaches?” Alexia whispered to her teammate as they chalked their hand grips. “That's not usual, is it?” 

“I don't know.” Ignacia peered under her eyelashes at the young man who was fixed on the man who was making a lot of hand gestures as the other coach was talking. “I... I think that gymnast is deaf.”

Alexia gave her a look. “What is a deaf guy doing at the World Championships?” She shook her head. “The Americans must really be desperate.” She turned and walked away.

Ignacia shook her hands off and went over to her starting point. She glanced back across the gym and saw that the young man was headed for the rings. She put all thought of the deaf gymnast out of her mind as she launched herself into her routine. By the time she and Alexia had gone through all four of their routines, she had almost forgotten him – until she looked up from tying her sneakers just in time to see him stick the dismount on the high bar. 

“I still can't believe the Americans brought a deaf gymnast.” Alexia said under her breath. 

“You can't believe it? How many male gymnasts back in America do you think there are who can't believe there's a deaf guy who's better in this sport than they are?” She shouldered her bag. “Come on, we don't want to be late for lunch.”

“Yeah.” Her teammate stood and the two of them headed for the changing room. 

*

The Mens' final was the night before the Womens' and the coaches had been adamant about all the girls getting enough sleep the night before. The Romanian women were, as usual, trailing the Russians by mere tenths of a point – the Americans and the Chinese would be competing for third place. Ignacia tightened her grip around the small bear she always traveled with – a gift from last year's Worlds in Toronto. She was drifting in and out of sleep when the sound of someone yelling in the next room bolted her awake. She knew that the room next to her and Alexia was occupied by two members of the Russian Men's team. She rubbed her eyes, glanced at the clock and saw it was just after one in the morning.

“Sounds like it's been a bad night for Russia.” Alexia murmured sleepily. “You understand any of it?”

Ignacia rubbed her eyes, yawning. “My Russian is only slightly better than my German... which is pretty bad...” She was about to suggest turning on the TV as something slammed against the wall as someone screamed in anger.

“Третье место!” The voice roared. 

“Wait, I do know that one.” Alexia sat up and flipped the light on. “The Russians came in third.”

“Are you kidding?” She gave her friend a disbelieving look. “The Russians never come in third!”

There was the noise of footsteps running down the hallway and then there was more yelling in the next room, a deep, calming voice that had to be a coach. A sharp knock caused the two girls to turn and Ignacia, who was nearer the door, got out of bed and looked through the peephole to see one of the Romanian coaches, Armand Gusa, on the other side. She flipped back the lock and peered into the hallway. “What's wrong?”

“Were you and Alexia already awake when the shouting started?” His face was stern.

“Half-awake. What's going on?” She kept herself mostly hidden behind the door so she couldn't be seen in her pajamas. 

“The Russians came in third behind Japan and the US.” He shook his head. “As you can imagine, they aren't taking it very well.” 

“I think we can hear it.” Alexia came up behind her teammate. “Was the score close?”

“Hardly. The Japanese just barely edged the Americans. The Russians were behind the Americans by almost a half a point.” He sighed. “Big day for us tomorrow. Try and get some sleep. Hopefully there won't be any more interruptions.” 

“Yes, sir.” The two girls replied as one and they stepped back into their room, locking the door with the latch. 

“You think that the men losing will unnerve the women?” Alexia climbed back into her bed as Ignacia flipped off the light and pulled the covers up to her chin.

“I don't think so – but I think the pressure will be twice as bad for them.” She pulled the bear back towards her and closed her eyes. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Uh huh.” Alexia yawned in reply.

**  
Individual Worlds weren't held in Germany, but in London. That was the second time Ignacia marked seeing Dean Coulter, though she was far to deep in her competition mind set to pay any attention to how anyone other than herself and her fellow teammates were doing. All-around was Friday and individual events Saturday – men's and women's. Her scores from the team finals qualified her as the third highest Romanian gymnast – but the odds of the Romanian women sweeping the top three places was next to impossible. Things like that just didn't happen in any competition. 

She was not disappointed in her ninth place finish. Her scores put her into the event finals of floor and bars. Romania had plenty to celebrate – her teammate Andrea had come in first, with a girl from the Ukraine coming in second and an American placing third. Alexia was fourth. 

The next morning she learned that, as expected, the star of the Japanese team had taken first in the men's, followed by a someone from China taking second and a fellow Romanian in third. The fact that the Russians had been shut out of the top three in the world was a little unnerving – and could be an indicator of how things were going to go in Sydney next September. 

All thoughts of other countries and their teams went out of her mind the way it always did when she got to the gym. Ignacia counted herself pretty lucky to be able to completely zone out distractions and focus solely on the task at hand. 

She wasn't entirely surprised when she came in fourth on bars. The Russians, the Chinese and the Americans all had superstars in that event. Fourth was nothing to sneeze at, as her father would tell her. In a world of tenths and hundredths, tiny steps meant the difference between placing and falling behind. Although given that what landed her in fourth was the fraction of a step she took on her dismount, she figured fourth was better than a shattered leg bone – and her coaches agreed.

Floor was a completely different story – it was almost – almost flawless. 

They awarded the men and women medals at the same time – and as they lined up for medals on the floor, she was in shock to see that Dean Coulter was standing next to her. That was when she realized three things she hadn't known about the young man. One, was the fact that he had a brush of freckles across his nose and cheekbones that were honestly distracting. Second, he had green eyes – she'd never seen eyes in that shade up close before. Third – he had, without a doubt, the most infectious smile. When it came time for the two of them to step up onto the podium, she learned a fourth thing about him – someone had taught him some serious manners.

The sight of him holding out his hand for her to hold while she stepped up onto the podium – even though it wasn't that high, almost made her hesitate for a minute. She gave him a smile, set her hand on his and stepped up and a soon as she let go, had to resist the urge to grab it back as he stood next to her. 

The roar of the crowd was amazing – thousands of people cheering for all of them. As she straightened up from receiving her medal and taking the bouquet of flowers, Ignacia realized something else. This cacophony of noise that was so immense, so incredible it was making her ears ring – was completely silent to the man standing next to her. She looked out of the corner of her eye to see him waving at all the strangers, that smile that could melt a glacier across his face, his eyes shining with tears – and then he turned to look at her, holding out his hand.

Ignacia did what any other member of her team would have done. She shook it and then stood on her toes and he leaned down just enough for the two of them to kiss on both cheeks – when he straightened up – she saw that he was blushing.

As they stepped down, once again with him helping her, she looked up at Dean, who was nearly a foot taller than her, she spoke to him for the first time. “Vedem în Sydney.” Realizing instantly that one, she had forgotten he was deaf, and two – even if he wasn't, it was highly unlikely he spoke Romanian.

Dean must have understood her somehow, because he nodded and smiled in response.

Ignacia just knew her teammates were going to be giving her a hard time all the way back to Deva.

***  
Ignacia could not believe it as she stood on the second place tier in the all-around at the Olympic Games. Romania had done the impossible – they had snagged the gold in the team competition and had just swept the all-around. She had heard the term 'clean house' in competitions before, and that was exactly what the Romanian women did – she and her teammates all returned home with one gold team medal, three all-arounds, and six medals from the individual events – two of each type. 

Ignacia herself came home with one of each color – her bronze came from the uneven bars, barely losing the silver to her own teammate, Gina. 

It was a thrill ride that just seemed to be getting started – and she would later feel foolish for thinking it would never end. She was so caught up in what happened to her, her teammates and what was waiting for them back at home that she almost didn't notice that Dean was not among the American gymnasts.

*  
The stellar gymnastics career of Ignacia Madgearu came to an end at the Olympics Festival in Brisbane. She knew almost as soon as she vaulted onto the beam, that something was wrong. Not always her best event, she could feel the pain in her arm as she performed her first front handstand and then, on her next pass, she felt the tear rip up from her wrist as she overbalanced and fell to the mats, cradling her injured arm in agony. 

Standing up seemed an impossibility and she thought it was best just to lay there – and wait for the coaches to come for her. 

What exactly, was she going to do now? She was only nineteen years old.

*  
Ignacia looked at the stack of letters on the tray over her bed, sighing softly. Cards had been piling in for her from all over the world, from gymnasts and gymnastic enthusiasts alike. She'd been going through eighty cards a day for the past two weeks and still – there was no end in sight. She knew that they had all been scanned for anything dangerous so there was nothing to worry about there. She reached up with her uninjured arm and pulled out a square envelope from the pile. She'd grown so used to seeing the American Air-Mail stamp, she didn't even check to see where it was from before she flipped it open and pulled out a postcard. 

The picture was of blooming cheery trees in front of some sort of domed building. Flipping it over, she read the information and found that it was the Thomas Jefferson Memorial in Washington D.C. She thought it was rather pretty – and then read the note scrawled on the back.

_Ignacia -_

_I was sorry to hear about your accident in Brisbane. I hope that you are well on the road to recovery. I also want to say congratulations on the medals you won in Sydney – I certainly was impressed! I know you said you'd see me there, but the judges at the trials thought others would better represent my country._

_Again, I hope that you are feeling better and that you are able to go home to your family and loved ones soon._

_All the best,_

_Dean Coulter – USA_

Ignacia smiled and ran a finger along the printing. True, she'd gotten lots of similar cards, but Dean had remembered her telling him she'd see him in Sydney. Clearly, some judge hadn't been thinking when they didn't let Dean go. She set the card in the shoebox where she'd put several other cards, mostly from little girls in Romania – and felt her cheekbones tingle. She reached up and touched them, frowning. Then she thought of being back at Worlds and Dean Coulter kissing her on both cheeks.

She hoped that whoever managed to capture his heart someday knew just how amazing he was. Since she was never going to see him again, she didn't feel any jealousy against them.

Well, not _too_ much jealousy.

**  
Being a hero to a bunch of American gymnasts was never on Ignacia's dream list. During the recovery of the injury she'd sustained in Brisbane, she had been offered a job at a gym in Palo Alto, California – started by former Olympians. As much as her parents were loathed to have her move so far away from home, she hadn't really lived with her parents since she was eight years old. She lived in an apartment with four students at Stanford University – two of whom loved gymnastics – and at times, it was almost like being back in Deva, in the dorm rooms there. The odd thing was though, this gym wasn't interested in turning out World Champions and gold-medalists. While there was still plenty of competition, the focus was more on the joy of the sport rather than the winning. Her boss believed that in order to be good at something, you had to love it. That made perfect sense – she had loved the bars and floor when she started out as an eight year old in Deva – and thus, they had always been her best events. The other great thing about her job was that when the students went out for competitions, since Ignacia was an assistant specialist coach and not a lead coach, she got to stay at home – and sometimes, take a few days off. Sometimes watching competitions was painful – knowing that she herself would never take part in one again.

“Annie!” A voice snapped her from her thoughts. “It's starting!” 

“Coming!” She replied, tossing a hooded sweatshirt over her cami-top. Watching US Nationals wouldn't be a problem however – even when she was younger, she never could have partaken in this contest. She came into the room and took a seat on the couch while her roommate Olivia set a bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table. “It's men's tonight, right?”

“Right. The women are tomorrow, which I have to miss because I have to work on a project for school.” She grabbed a handful of popcorn. 

“Who's the favorite for this again?” She tucked her feet under her, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“Anderson, I think – he was like, the only guy who won a medal back in Sydney.” She gave her a sideways look. “Didn't you win like, twenty of them?”

“I brought home three.” She felt her cheeks flush. “No gymnast could bring home twenty.” 

“Three is still a lot – most people don't bring home any.” Olivia tossed a piece of popcorn into the air and caught it with her mouth. “That Coulter guy is supposed to be really good too.”

“Coulter? As in – Dean Coulter?” She knew her face went a little more pink at speaking his name.

“Yeah. He is _so_ cute. It's a shame he's deaf.” She sighed. 

“Should it matter that he's deaf?” Ignacia frowned. “If anything, that should make it more impressive. They don't even let deaf children into the school at Deva.” 

“You have a point, but like.. he's _deaf.”_ She rubbed the back of her head. 

“I don't think that's a problem.” She gave her roommate a sideways glance as the television was doing some fluff piece on the fiasco of the men's team in Sydney. “And cameras do _not_ do him justice.”

At this, Olivia sat up. “You've met him?” She made an exasperated noise. “Of course you have, you've probably met the whole of the American team...”

“Well, it was only for a few minutes when I was close to him. It was at Individual Worlds two years ago – we both got silver medals on the floor.” She was so pink now, she was sure her ears were flaming. “If that man wasn't doing gymnastics, he should be slaying vampires, or something – if they were real, that is.”

“You are so red right now.” Olivia was fighting back tears of laughter. She glanced at the television, which was showing Dean Coulter doing his routine on the pommel horse at the Olympic Trials a year ago. “If only he wasn't deaf.”

Ignacia leaned against her hand as she gazed at the television. “If only he spoke Romanian.” 

**  
Libraries were wonderful things – and Ignacia sincerely wished she could have gone to them more often when she was growing up. Libraries were not something that she grew up with – at least not in the sort she now found herself visiting almost weekly. The Romanian government had once kept many books out of the country until roughly a decade ago, and now, she found herself playing catch up in so many ways. 

Right now, however, she was having to deal with a section of cookbooks that was far to large and most of the spines hard to read given their colors and fancy-script titles. “Seven hundred cookbooks and all I need is one...” She looked at the number the man at the front desk had given her and looked back up at the shelf. “At this point, I think making the dish will be the easy part.” 

She tilted her head up to look on the top shelf and felt her shoulders slump. “It would be up there.” The book in question, _West Meets East,_ was almost taunting her as her fingers just cleared the shelf itself, brushing against the book's spine. She was about to step onto the bottom shelf to add an inch of grasp to her four-ten frame when a hand reached over her, grasped the book and held it out to her.

“You wanted this one, yes?” The voice sounded odd, rather stilted and strangely accented.

“Da, vă mulţumesc foarte mult.” She caught herself. “I mean, yes, thank you very much.” She took the book from the man, tucking the book against her and looked up – and felt her cheeks go pink.

The man blinked at her and then broke out into that grin that honestly, should be illegal. “Ignacia Madgearu, we meet again.” 

It was Dean Coulter.

She noticed that he spelled out her name with his hands as she spoke. “Uh... hello.” She straightened up and hugged the book to her, wondering just how silly she looked. “I saw you win the National Championship. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He was still smiling and frankly, Ignacia thought the brighter his smile got the more of her face that went red. “I saw you win the medals in Sydney. Impressive. How is your arm?” 

“Oh, it's much better thank you.” She repeated the gesture he'd done for 'thank you' and then his smile got _bigger._ “I uh... not how I wanted to end my career.” She looked at the floor, not certain what to do now. She looked back up when she heard a small thump as Dean set his books on the shelf. “I didn't expect to run into you again.”

“The same.” His smile had toned down a little, much to her relief. “What brings you to California?”

“I teach at a local gym. What about you? What are you doing in California?” She still wasn't ready to relinquish her grip on the book.

“School. I attend Stanford University.” He straightened his shoulders. “I'm not bothering you, am I?”

“No, no it's fine.” She rubbed her nose. “What are you studying?”

“Medicine.” She must have given him a funny look because his face changed. “Does that surprise you?”

“No, no... I was just... I just never think of people going from gymnastics to becoming a doctor.” She frowned. “I heard you retired. Why?”

“Forgive me if this sounds rude, but I wanted to go out on my own terms. Going out on top was an added bonus.” He picked his books back up. “It was nice seeing you again.” He bit at his bottom lip for a moment before speaking again. “I don't suppose I could see you again sometime soon, could I?”

Ignacia knew she went from barely blushing to fully flushed. “I.... I would like that.” She wondered how he couldn't notice how embarrassed she looked. 

“Tomorrow?” He gave her a hopeful look. “Sunday Brunch?”

“Tomorrow is church.” She adjusted the hold on her books. 

“Yes, I know. I am going to the nine thirty at Saint Andrew's because that is the one with the interpreter for the hearing impaired.” He smiled. “It should only last an hour.”

“I know that church. You are lucky, the Orthodox Church takes an hour to get to.” She paused. “So...” She straightened up. “Would you object to me attending your church?”

Dean's face twisted into an expression that made her think she might have grown another head. “Not in the slightest. Although I usually walk to services. Is this a problem?”

“No, I'd love to walk.” She thought for a moment. “St. Andrew's – that's the church that's near the west entrance to the University, yes?”

“Yes, it's about four blocks from here.” He paused, looking uncertain. “Although if you are not terribly busy at the moment, we could go and have some... coffee, or something similar.”

She glanced down at her book and tightened her grip on it. “That sounds like fun.” She winced at the word 'sounds' – Dean couldn't hear.

“It's all right.” He must have guessed what caused her discomfort. “I'm the guy with a translator in all my classes.”

She smiled and the two of them headed up to the front desk. “I'm the one at work with a funny accent.” 

Dean stopped. “You have an accent?” 

“Yes, I...” She caught sight of the grin spreading across his face and felt herself go pink. “You're... what is the word... _bad!”_

“Me?” His expression shifted to one of mock innocence. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

She shook her head and they went on. “I suppose you think you're clever.”

“I think I'm adorable.” Dean replied.

Ignacia set her books on the counter, her heart was fluttering. She was just going for coffee – and church tomorrow and then brunch. The two of them could at least be friends, right? She felt the flush growing in her face again. Hopefully, she'd stop blushing around Dean sometime soon. It wasn't like they were going to become close friends – boys, men – weren't in her future. And even if they were, her parents would never approve of someone who was deaf. The American thing wasn't a problem. 

Then again, her mom and dad might change their opinion if something did come of this and they learned that Dean still went to church without his mother around to tell him to go.

But for now – they'd just be friends. Very likely that's all they'd ever be.

She had no idea how wrong she was – and honestly, if she had seen the cupid who had been there that day at World Championships – she never would have believed where this road was going to take them.


End file.
